Same Damn Song
by He will knock four times
Summary: Lassiter doesn't know what to do when misunderstandings cause problems of frightening proportions. Oneshot. Possible continuations. Potential shashie.


He was calling Shawn's phone again.

'_Hello you have just missed Shawn. If this is Val Kilmer please keep calling and I will die from excitement. If this is a emergency then please hang up and call 911. I am currently considering how I can accept pineapples as a form of payment._'

Voicemail for the sixth time. Not even Shawn's ridiculous voicemail and the weird accents he did during its recording eased his worries.

Carlton is openly concerned. He is currently on suspension for the next two days because the department psychologist hasn't cleared him yet. He is required a mandatory six sessions before he can return to work. He just finished his fifth. He also had found out that while he was getting help for the failed case, Shawn was not. Lassiter knew the risks of his job. While he felt terrible about it he didn't need the therapy and Shawn had taken it all far harder than he had.

Shawn Spencer is a civilian. As a consultant he doesn't really have risks in his job except for the incredibly stupid situations he puts himself in. Shawn has never failed a case yet except for three times before and even then they never ended in the death of someone. This last case had, and it had hit the man rather hard. Shawn is the one who needed the therapy.

Four days ago he had showed up at Lassiter's porch looking more morose than Carlton had ever seen him. It was disturbing to Lassiter just how sad Shawn looked. He had never thought it possible. Shawn was always fine and happy. He cracked movie references and fake psychic mumbo jumbo with a smile on his face. There in his house, he had not smiled. He had almost looked needy. Desperate. So Carlton had done his best to cheer Shawn up. But soon after Shawn leaves and he realizes he didn't do a very good job at comforting him.

Shawn has yet to answer any of his calls so far and it has been four days. Everyone else has not seen or heard from him in an even longer time. Worry and wild ideas go through his mind. It's almost seven PM before impatience gets the better of him.

"That is it." He mutters to himself. He throws on his jacket and grabs his keys before heading to the door. He knows where Shawn's apartment building is. He remembers the sloppy state of it and cringes slightly as he sits down in the clean seat of the Crown Vic. He needed to know if Shawn was okay. Something about him showing up on Carlton's front door in the state he was made an uneasy twist in Carlton's gut.

Xxxxxx

Spencer's place was a former laundry mat. Of course it was. He would never go for the classic, normal setup of being in just an apartment complex. The blinds for the bay window are drawn and it looks dark inside. His bike isn't out front. He isn't answering the door despite Carlton banging on it. He was considering kicking down the door at this point but then he notices a silver key that had shifted out from under the mat. Grabbing it he finds it a perfect match for the door.

He wasn't prepared for what he finds inside. The entire place is empty save for the furniture and about twelve boxes from Home Depot. It was clean. Immaculate. Everything had been swept, mopped, wiped and packed away. Had Spencer left town? From what Carlton knew it wasn't the first time. Carlton walked through one of the open doorways and finds a bathroom, also clean. To his relief the counter is partially wet when he touches it. Shawn had just left or had been here in the last hour. There was still time. Parts of him wonder why he is intent on keeping him around. Shawn is irreverent, a distraction and most certainly not psychic. He had run before. He was free to leave whenever. But Carlton also knew that this was different. Guilt ridden and the look on his face as he walked out of Carlton's door...

_Something was wrong. Something is _still_ wrong. Something is off._ These thoughts had pestered Carlton ever since he last saw Shawn. He needed to find Shawn. Carlton went back to the living room to see what clues could be there to Shawn's whereabouts. Everything was packed away. Even the fridge and the kitchen cabinets were empty. Shawn had no plans on staying. Something about that struck Carlton as wrong. No one leaves for a trip that late at night. Even if he was leaving in the morning he should have something to eat.

He took his cell out again and tried various numbers. Henry. 'Im not here right no-' Carlton hung up impatiently. He tried again. _Pick up the phone damn you._ Canceling the call the moment he got voicemail he next tried calling what was practically Shawn's conjoined twin. To his relief Gus answered on the second ring.

"Detective Lassiter?" Gus's voice sounded confused. "Is something the matter?"

Certain he would get answers now Carlton breathed easier. "Hello Guster, I'm going to need you to tell me where I can find Spencer."

There was a prolonged silence on the phone. Carlton wanted to scream. He didn't have time. The answer shocked him more than anything.

"I don't know. I haven't seen or spoken to Shawn for nearly two weeks. I've been working in my office since then to avoid him. We weren't on speaking terms. Why? What's he done now?"

A puzzle piece that explains Shawn's previous state of being slid into place. Shawn had not only failed a case that ended in a death he blamed himself for, but one of his most trusted support beams had just slid out from underneath him. That alarmed feeling from before, the one that told him something was wrong, started squirming. _Bad! __Bad things!_ It said. Feeling that sense of premonition Carlton spoke quickly.

"Guster, this is very important. I need you to tell me if you know where Spencer is right now."

"I don't know. He's probably at his apartment watching a movie."

"_I'm_ inside of his apartment!" His voice raising with frustration. "He's not here and neither are his things!"

The silence on the line lasted only a moment and he heard the cracking voice. He heard the fear. "What?"

"He is not here Guster." Carlton manage to calm his voice, knowing how upsetting this could be. "He is not here, his apartment looks like a cleaning lady invaded and all his things are packed up. I need to know where Spencer could be. Do you have any idea why he isn't here or where he is?"

There was silence and then he heard Burton Guster do something the mild mannered person had never done before. He swore. Profusely. "He is running."

"Running?" Carlton hoped it was just leaving town. He hoped one of his theories was just him being ridiculous.

"Yes. When something gets to be too much for Shawn he hops on his bike and leaves. The last time it happened Shawn was nineteen and I didn't see him again for five whole years."

"Yes, but something tells me Guster that he isn't leaving town tonight. I need you to tell me where he can be found."

"_Wait_! _You're_ trying to get _Shawn_ to _stay_? Even though he annoys you the most? Why?!"

Carlton swallowed. Why, indeed. Good question. He would answer that the moment he knew the answer himself.

"It doesn't matter. Just give me _something_ to go on."

"Check his laptop."

Looking around Carlton realizes the only thing not packed away was a plain black laptop on the equally black couch. Quickly sitting down he opens it up with his free hand. He nearly laughs at the kid stickers decorating the frame but stifles it. Bringing up the browser Carlton checks the history, pleased to know that Shawn didn't wipe it clean. The most recent search made his hand shake as he realized what it was. Cold set in between his shoulder blades as he found the cemetery address for the failed case victim was the last search. Barely managing to keep his voice even and calm Carlton gets up off the couch.

"Thank you Guster. I know where he is. You've been very helpful."

"Wait! Where is he? I'll come too!"

"No." He hangs up the phone and walks out the door in a hurry.

Xxxxxx

Evergreen Pines is a cemetery on the very edge of town. It's practically in the woods and is open late. It is also the final resting of Wendolyn Evaline Boxer, daughter of the Californian senator Barbara boxer. Wendy was twelve years old and kidnapped. Barbara was given seventy two hours total to pay the ransom money or her daughters life was forfeit. Shawn found the daughter in fifty two hours and gave the location to the police. Wendy Boxer was dead and had been for three hours. Despite everyone telling him otherwise, Shawn had taken the blame onto himself. It was even harder for him because there was no evidence on who had killed her.

By the time Carlton gets to the cemetery it's dark and the lamps are on. He is only slightly relieved that Shawn's bike is there. But that horrible sense of wrongness only increases when he sees that Shawn had left the key in the ignition. Like he didn't care what happened to his bike. Shawn loved that damn bike. The helmet had been tossed to the ground. He goes through the gate and walks forward. Shawn hadn't been to the service because he had been silently asked to not go. Her mother, distraught, had a very public breakdown and blamed Shawn for everything that had happened. Shawn hadn't gone. Carlton had attended Wendolyn's funeral. He remembered where the gravesite was.

All too soon he sees it ahead. He sees Shawn as well in the half light of the lamps dotting the cemetery. His back is to the grave and he was to its left. As Carlton gets closer that chill from before reappears. Party balloons had been blown up and scattered the ground around him. It's also apparent that Shawn is drunk. The bottle is still in his hand and he is drinking straight from the mouth. Shawn never got drunk. Carlton knew at least that much. In all the years he had known Shawn, 'only a little' seemed to be a motto when it came to Shawn drinking. Now he is currently trying to finish an entire bottle on his own. Spotting him, Carlton notices the smile pasted on hurriedly by Shawn. He isn't fooled.

"Lassie! What are you doing here?"

The nickname. The smile. The glad tone of voice. They all seem like normal Shawn but something was off. The smile was forced. The tone seemed more worried than glad. Shawn was trying to act business as usual but couldn't pull it off. Any other day or location Carlton might have bought it. The drink was compromising his ability to fake it.

"I could ask you the same thing." He said quietly. "I've haven't seen you in four days."

"How ever did you find me Lassieface?! You know what? Doesn't matter. You've found me. But as you can see I am fine. You can go home now. The spirits are telling me that some brainless thief is considering breaking into your house. Poor bastard doesn't know its your house. Go teach him that not staking out the house and profession of the owner of the house he is going to rob first is unethical!"

_He is trying to get rid of me_, Carlton realizes. That profound sense of wrongness from before shivered its way up his back. Normally Shawn never tried to get rid of him, as a rule. If Carlton was away then Shawn had no one to bug or pester. He was normally bugging people but he made it almost a hobby to target Carlton specifically.

"Nice try Spencer, but you are coming with me." Carlton refuses to leave Shawn alone tonight. After this he is going to make sure that Shawn agrees to see the department shrink. He also doesn't miss the way Shawn stiffens.

"On what grounds officer?" He asks. The challenge is clear in his voice.

"It's detective. Now get up, Spencer."

"On what grounds?" He insists, with the kind of belligerence only a Spencer can display.

"Fine! If you are going to be that way then I can arrest you for getting drunk in a cemetery, being on private property after hours or for desecration of a grave. Take your pick, Spencer! Now either you are coming with me freely or I am arresting you."

Shawn is quiet for a moment and he shrugs, taking another sip.

"You shouldn't have come here, Lassiter. I thinks its best if you go now." Whether it was the proper use of his name or the words or how uncharacteristically serious Shawn looks, Carlton is very unsettled. Despite his warm clothes Carlton feels colder than Shawn looks, wearing only jeans and a T-shirt.

"Spencer, what the hell are you doing out here?" He demands irritably.

Shawn shrugs again, thinking something over. He tries to get rid of Carlton again. " 'm having a party. You should leave now Carly. Parties go sour when they go on too long."

"Party?! What kind?" The behaviors in this conversation were making Carlton shiver and wonder if his ridiculous theory from earlier was really all that far off.

"_Please_ go." Shawn tried again, almost begging at that point. Shawn almost never said 'please'.

"No. _What_ party Spencer?"

Shawn almost seemed to droop at Carlton's insistent prying. He was now leaning against the edge of Wendy's grave. After a minute Carlton spoke again.

"What party?"

"It's my 'Going Away' party." He mumbled out, taking another sip.

Electric anxiety hit all the wrong places in his chest. He had had an suspicion before but had brushed it off as ridiculous. Now he wasn't so certain. Even if before he had not considered leaving without Shawn, he absolutely could not go now. His eyes flicker to Shawn's pockets and he doesn't see the outline of a switch blade. Shawn and cut wrists... He felt almost ill considering this.

He next eyes the bottle with suspicion. Was there something extra in it? Carlton didn't have Ipecac syrup in the first aid kit in his car. He would have to punch Shawn hard in the gut to induce vomiting if his suspicions about what Shawn was planning were correct. Quickly Carlton snatches the bottle out of Shawn's hands as he makes to take another sip.

"'ey! Bad Lassie! Give that back!" Shawn didn't get up to take it back though.

It was over two thirds empty. At Shawn's height and estimated weight any poisonous effects would have taken place by now. Clearly he didn't have any medicine on him. Confusion took Carlton for a moment. He didn't see any object that suggested Shawn was going to kill himself. His behaviors, his words and the setting for his 'party' were throwing a hissy fit in Carlton's mind though. His intuition was kicking and screaming on the floor. _Wrong! Wrong! Wrong! Wrong! Wrong!_ Something was _wrong_. Carlton was missing something. Against his better judgment he handed the bottle back. It wasn't like Shawn hadn't nearly drank the whole damn thing on his own already. Shawn took another sip and was speaking again.

"You should be pleased Lassie. After tonight you no longer have to deal with me. You'll never have to see me again. Sides... You never liked me anyways."

Carlton paused at that. Is that what Shawn thought? That he disliked him so thoroughly he never wanted to see him again? Certainly Carlton had, for a time, resented how Shawn Spencer, conman extraordanaire, wormed his way onto cases. He was a fraud. He made a joke of the whole process. He made jokes through the whole process. But over the last five years though Carlton found a grudging respect for Shawn. He learned that despite the jokes Shawn took this seriously. Shawn _cared_. He cared about the victims. He cared for the people left behind. Shawn, for all the illegality of his lie, was a damn good detective. He was an even better person. Carlton could say he liked him. Respected him even. Privately of course.

Spencer caught murderers, thieves and even would-be killers. He was far better a person than the people they dealt with daily. He could forgive Shawn his little deceptions in order to catch bigger, more poisonous fish. He thought Shawn knew this. He thought Shawn knew they had a sort of secret friendship dance. He would bug Carlton, secretly Carlton was laughing inside, Carlton would tell him to go to hell and Shawn would make some smart ass comment, Carlton would threaten to shoot him for the millionth and one more time and then Shawn would just laugh it off and make a movie reference. It was practically how they said 'hello'.

"This wasn't how I wanted it. Come on. Up you get Spencer, you need to come with me. I'm not leaving you here alone." Even if Carlton was wrong he wasn't taking that chance by leaving without Shawn.

Shawn sat up straight looking like he was going to argue his point. "No. Thanks for the concern but just no. If it's about leaving me alone then I assure you my friend Jack Daniels here is taking good care of me. I drink to your health Detective Lassiter." He raised the bottle high in a toast and took another drink.

That was when Carlton saw it and his insides went cold. It was an accident. Shawn hadn't meant to. Clearly he didn't know the toast would raise his arm high up enough long enough that Lassiter had time to spot it. There, peaking out from behind Shawn and shining slightly in the half light, in the grass, was the handle of a familiar gun. It was his Service Ruger. He hadn't seen it in-

_Sweet Christ!_

He hadn't seen it in _four_ days!

Not since before Shawn's surprise visit! He kept it strapped to the underside of the kitchen table. Shawn had 'tripped' near that table and caught himself on it before leaving. Lassiter had been confused because it wasn't like him to misplace a gun but he hadn't thought anything of it. Thinking it would just turn up miraculously in his immaculate apartment.

He felt like hyperventilating as his fear and suspicion was confirmed. Shawn had packed up his things. He had stolen a loaded gun. He was drinking heavily. He was having a party of one. A 'Going away' party. Not a 'moving party' but a 'going away'. He was at her grave. He was here in the cemetery trying to get rid of Carlton who 'shouldn't be here'. It was with a chill that Carlton realized Shawn had only been holding out for when Carlton left. Shawn was only still alive because Carlton had stuck to his intuition that something was wrong and had stayed.

Holding out his hand Carlton made his voice as commanding and firm as possible, trying not to let the black hole of panic swallow him.

"Give me the gun Spencer."

Shawn paused in the middle of another drink, his guilty face betraying the lie in his words. "What gun?"

Not buying the act for a second Carlton juts his hand closer to the other mans face, commanding Shawn with both his hands and his words. "I said 'give me the gun'. Now give me the god damn gun Spencer!"

Shawn puts down the bottle with a thunk, looking very serious.

"I think its time for you to leave Lassie. You won't want to be here in a couple to see how this 'party' ends." His voice is light but the words are dark and full of warning. Carlton feels his stomach drop out as his heart beat speeds up. He admitted it. He didn't say it explicitly but he admitted what he was planning. Shawn continues talking, much less lighthearted than a moment before. "You weren't supposed to see this. Please go. I'd like to be alone now."

"I can't let you do this Spencer. Give me the gun."

Shawn nods, looking tired. "I understand. 'To protect and to serve' and all that. It's ok. 'S my decision. No one will to know you found me here. Now If it's all the same to you I'd like for you to go now."

Carlton doesn't hesitate to correct Shawn's misconception.

"No. This isn't about me doing my damn job Shawn. This is about me keeping my friend alive. I'm not leaving."

Shawn looks almost awestruck and for a moment Carlton can see some hope in his eyes for the first time since this conversation began. Carlton hopes this is enough. After another second the light winks out, like a bulb bursting. Shawn looks more miserable and tired than before.

"Thank you for saying that. I wish I had the confidence to believe it. Now it's time for you to leave. You weren't supposed to be here tonight. _Last_ chance to leave Lassie. The party is almost over."

Carlton tenses, seeing Shawn put his hand down slightly behind him on the handle of the gun. He wasn't making any move yet to pick it up. Shawn stares at him waiting for his answer, the meaning of his words clear. His eyes are full of warning that Carlton won't want to see it. Won't want to be here to witness what happens next. When Carlton stays Shawn can see the answer even before he opens his mouth. Realizing what is about to take place when the muscles on Shawn's arm tense up, Carlton doesn't hesitate.

He dives forward tackling Shawn to the ground. There's a strained moment when both of their hands struggle for the gun. Thinking quickly Carlton squeezes his thumb into the hollow of Shawn's inner wrist, weakening the grasp of the younger man. Shawn curses, having lost his grip. He lets go of the gun unwillingly and Carlton rolls them several feet away from the weapon before Shawn can reach for it again. Shawn was less muscled, more tired and he was drunk. Lassiter was in his prime, after high school wrestling and intense training at the police academy. He worked out regularly. He hadn't had a drop of alcohol in days. He was at full capacity. Even Shawn's struggles do little. It took a minute sure but he had his cuffs out and was locking Shawn's hands behind his back with his body weight pinning him down.

He isn't prepared though for what Shawn does next though.

Having realized he was defeated and unable to kill himself, he breaks down. His chest was heaving and he was shuddering under Carlton's body as he cried. He's moaning and cursing Carlton's name between crying and it isn't long before he gives up struggling and talking.

Carlton wants to immediately comfort him but he can't. Not yet. Cautiously taking out the gun he kept in the small of his back Carlton opens the chamber and shakes the bullets out away from Shawn. He throws the now useless weapon away and does the same for the one he keeps under his pant leg. Unarmed and making damn sure Shawn can't try it again, he slowly gets up and moves off the pitiful person below him. Carlton sits and pulls Shawn up onto his lap face up and gives comfort the best he can.

It's been a while since Carlton has tried to comfort anyone. With any success at least. When Yang kidnapped Juliet he gave her a hug, let her cry and that was it. He finds he is doing well enough by stroking Shawn's hair and making shushing noises. To Carlton, 'doing well' means that he feels he isn't making this worse. He doesn't know how it can get worse but he certainly doesn't know how to make it better. He finds himself at a loss on how to make this better. He finds himself at a loss in this whole situation. He would have never thought this was possible from Shawn. It takes a full minute before Carlton realizes than not all the noise Shawn is making is from crying. He is trying to talk around the tears and the things he is saying make Carlton want to puke from grief.

"Why did you stop me? 'M not worth it! Why couldn't you _leave_? I wanted this! Things would have been better... No one would have missed me anyways! Things would have been bet-"

Carlton can't bare to hear anymore. He finds that with the adrenaline over, fear and anger take over. "Shut up Spencer!" Shawn stops talking and crying immediately but Carlton still needs to vent. He has experienced too much anxiety and fear in the last two hours to hold back now.

"Just _shut up_! Things would have been far worse with you dead! _No one_ would have been happy! People would have missed you! _I_ would have missed you! I can't believe you would have been so _stupid_ as to try something like this! Promise me you will _never_ try something like that again!"

His fears only deepen when Shawn says nothing, unwilling to lie right to Carlton's face. Lassiter is terrified.

"Promise me!" Still Shawn says nothing and Carlton growls in anger. Gripping Shawn's shoulders Carlton shakes him. "Promise me damn you!" He demands it. He has to demand it. If he doesn't demand it Carlton knows he would have started begging instead.

It takes a full minute before Shawn responds and what he says makes that unexpected sense of fear and grief roil and rot Carlton's insides.

"_You_... would have missed _me_?" He sounds so incredulous, like he can't believe anyone would. From the way Shawn had been talking about himself a minute ago, he probably can't. He looks very confused and surprised. "But... you hate me..."

"My fucking God Spencer! For someone as clever as you are, what with having _over half_ the department fooled into thinking you are psychic, you are incredibly _thick_! Of_ course_ I would have missed you! You are my _friend_! I don't hate you! Now prove to me you have some brains and promise me you won't _ever_ try anything like that again!"

Shawn still says nothing and Carlton makes a rash threat. It's rash because Carlton Lassiter doesn't make empty threats and he hadn't really thought it through before saying it.

"If you don't promise me then I'm going to quit the force! I swear to God Shawn! _I will quit_!"

Somehow along the way he finds he doesn't want Shawn to stop working with the police anymore. He can't bare the idea of loosing him even in the workplace. It's rash, his threat. Hasty and he isn't certain what he will do for a living if he has to put his money where his mouth is but Carlton knows he will carry through with it anyways. Carlton's drastic threat somehow has the desired effect on Shawn as his green eyes widen. Its sufficiently shocking enough to anyone who knows the detective. It's another minute before Shawn speaks. He is hesitant, almost reluctant to give his word on this and Carlton knows Shawn will need to be watched closely in the future anyways. "I... I promise."

Hearing this wipes the anger away and by getting this promise from Shawn, Carlton doesn't regret telling him the truth. He hadn't bothered to say those things aloud before because he hadn't thought he _needed_ to. It was just implied in the relationship, or so he had thought. 'So he had thought' was something he had been thinking a lot today. He had thought Shawn understood a lot of things. He was finding that perhaps for all the perceptive capabilities Shawn _must_ have to solve crime, he must also be incredibly insecure to not figure out that others around him truly valued him.

This left another problem though. What Shawn had just tried meant he wasn't fit for work. He certainly couldn't be trusted to be alone for a while, promise or not. How Carlton handles this would effect Shawn deeply. Police procedure was clear. Call it in. People would be notified. People would notify people and then Henry would be notified. Gus would be notified. Doctors and therapists and professionals would handle it by parading Shawn around the therapy wagon.

But this was Shawn. He wasn't some random Jumper or Gin-and-Tylenol-tonicker.

How was he, _Carlton_, supposed to handle this? Did he do this as himself or as a cop? He could not decide. He was too full with panicky emotions. He was too close emotionally. Needing to distract himself from his dilemma he looked away. He viewed the mess the two had made. Partially dismantled guns in the grass, bullets and balloons dotting the grass. A bottle of empty alcohol. The still loaded Luger near the grave of Wendolyn Boxer. Carlton shuddered and looked back at Shawn having come to a partial decision. He spoke quietly.

"I'm going to stand up now Spencer. If you move I'm going to assume you're going to try to hurt yourself again and that I will need to pin you down, again, for your own sake. Am I understood?"

"But... I promised..." He whispered, sounding small, his handcuffed wrists still pinned underneath him.

"I can't trust your promise right now Spencer. I can't trust you with your own safety. Now, _am I understood_?"

Shawn nods quietly and Carlton slowly slides his lap out from underneath his head. He stands and starts picking up the bullets but he drops them into his jacket pocket instead of back into the guns. No taking chances. He picks up all the guns and empties the chamber of the Ruger Shawn had stolen from his kitchen. The safety had been off and it reinforced the image of what was fact. Shawn had known what he was doing. Hurrying to avoid thinking about it Carlton gathered up the balloons and starts popping them one by one. He stuffs the limp pieces of rubber into the glass bottle as a quick trash can.

All throughout doing this Carlton finds his head whipping around to look at Shawn every ten seconds to see if he had moved. It was eerie seeing him so silent and still on the ground as if already dead. Thankfully he hadn't moved. Looking around quickly he can't see anything he has missed. He shoves the empty guns and the bottle into a plastic yellow grocery sack that Shawn must have brought with him. Stuffing his arm through the loops he comes over to Shawn's prone form. Shawn looks almost asleep with his eyes drooping like that. Carlton knows it's just the alcohol but decides quickly he doesn't like it. Leaning down, Carlton helps him up into a standing position.

They get to the car without incident. Shawn doesn't even mention his beloved bike. Shawn wasn't a criminal... Mostly but Carlton is forced to put Shawn, still handcuffed, in the back seat. In the back where it doesn't unlock from the inside and there is no gun in the glove compartment or in a grocery bag up front. The drive to Carlton's house is short, tense and silent. The time has done nothing to ease his nerves like he had thought it would. If anything it increased them. He shuts the car off and makes a show of grabbing the gun from the glove compartment and the yellow bag before leaving Shawn in the car. He has no choice at that point but to leave Shawn in the car alone. His house was a mine field by comparison. It didn't matter to him that Shawn had promised. Carlton was scared.

He quickly went through the house and took down all the hidden guns he had around the place. He emptied the bullets and just because Shawn was the son of a cop, he dismantled the guns too. He raided his medicine cabinet next. He put them all in his private safe and changed the security code for good measure. Now that he was alone and thinking he found himself getting paranoid. He took all the knives, shavers and chemicals in his house and locked them in the basement. It took ten minutes but finally he was satisfied that it was safe enough. Ten minutes of Shawn left alone made Carlton incredibly uneasy.

He hurried out to the car and was relieved that Shawn hadn't tried anything. He opened the car and helped him up through the door. Carlton doesn't hesitate to take Shawn to his bedroom. It was the safest room in the house at the moment. He unlocks the cuffs and points to the bed. Shawn makes a token gesture of his old self, like an attempt to reassure Carlton of his promise. Despite the grim situation, he appreciates this.

"I don't know Carly. I think we should maybe have dinner first." There's no smile. No enthusiasm. Shawn is mumbling at this point. It was only eight fifty but he looked like he might collapse.

"Go to sleep Spencer." Carlton's usual bite is missing. He also is too tired to try for their usual banter.

Shawn climbs in obediently and closes his eyes. Carlton sighs and removes Shawn's shoes before settling into an armchair he had turned to face the bed. It's only ten minutes after he is sure Shawn is asleep that Carlton finally does something logical. A wise decision that his earlier emotions had hindered him from making. He gets his phone out to call someone. Carlton winces though when he realizes he has seventeen missed calls from Guster and twelve voicemails. Shit. He ignores them and instead dials O'Hara. She picks up right away.

"Oh hi, Carlton. Can I help you?" Her voice is chirpy and happy. Tired and sluggish himself, he almost regrets having to call her and ruin her night. This news would definitely sour her evening and mood in one fell swoop. He kept his voice low to avoid waking Shawn.

"Listen Juliet, something happened and I need you."

"Your off suspension early? We have a case? That's great! Wait, I-I mean obviously bad news but- um... Ok! I'll be down to the station in-"

"No. I'm not at the station. Can you come to my house?"

There was a pause on the line.

"Are you _ok_?" She sounds nervous as if gauging something. Carlton _almost_ laughs as he realizes she thinks it's _him_ in danger from himself. Almost.

"I'm not in danger O'Hara but there's something I need help with and I can't speak of it over the phone. Please don't tell anyone."

"Ok. I'll be there in about eight minutes."

"Good."

He hung up the phone. Juliet might know what to do. He sure as hell didn't. He was freaking out quietly as it was. He kept staring at Shawn's chest to see if it was moving. It started to come to a point where Carlton had to look at his _own_ chest to reassure himself that _he_ was breathing. Oh god... Shawn had tried to... Oh god...

If Carlton Lassiter wasn't so thoroughly and properly scared, it would have been at that point that he would have started to clue in that his feelings for Shawn Spencer were deeper than he originally thought and less than platonic.

Xxxxxx

Someone help me by coming up with a better voicemail for Shawn. I may pursue this story latter and I want something fun. Best three get to be in my story.


End file.
